I will not suffer a Tryanny of Meatheads

This happened over a month ago, I just haven't gotten around to writing it until now.

Related to this post regarding athletes in high school and continuing on, I am here to relate the story of the Redneck Meathead who I encountered early Sunday morning as I left my house to go to my neighbors to let their dog out. (Side note: I'll update this post with a photo when I can capture said meathead).

Anyway, there is a very large Marine (meaning steroided up without a neck Marine) who lives in the neighborhood and he has a dog. A little one. It's actually kinda cute to see him walking with a tiny dog because of the dichotomy of the two images. The problem is that he never, and I mean never, cleans up after the dog poops. He just leaves it on whoever's yard the dog happens to poop on.

My neighbors and I have noticed this, and have often commented on either confronting him or writing a letter to the Home Owners Association to complain. No one wants to confront him because he's huge, and could easliy snap a person in two like a twig.

But, for anyone who knows me, I sometimes do stupid things. Like this particular Sunday, for instance.

Let me set the stage:



It's early, like 7:30 am, and I have just woken up on Sunday morning. I haven't had coffee or eaten breakfast. I leave the house to go over to my neighbor's house two doors over to let their dog out to pee, etc. And it's perfect, because the Marine and the dog are there, on my neighbor's yard, and the dog is pooping.

"Good morning," I say as I walk past the man as the dog finishes.

The man starts to walk off, leaving the poop on the yard.

Since he's now a good 15 feet away from me, I say to him, "Are you going to clean that up?"

Without turning around he says, "No" and continues to walk away.

"Well, that's disgusting and rude," I reply.

And then he does turn around, and without any additional provation on my part starts yelling at me, calling me a nosy mother-hubbard who should mind his own f$%king business, and what am I going do about, p#%sy?

Full blown 'roid rage. Having never seen one before, I unfortunately knew right away that it was one.

It's then that wife opens the door to see what the ruckus is all about. He sees this and then says, "Oh, better act tough for the wife. Make sure she knows you're a man!"

He does everything he can to try to get to engage with him, but I'm not biting. I tell him its rude, disgusting, and that its just common courtesy to clean up after your dog.

He tells me that he's a grown man and can do whatever he wants, and who am I to tell him different. I turn and walk away because this is clearly going nowhere.

In retrospect, I have little else to say about this other than "Well, that happened." I can only be responsible for myself and my actions. I am glad I said something, but I could have said something a lot less confrontational, such as"Do you need some plastic bags for that? I have some at the house if you're out." You know, something helpful.

Oh well.